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"Do you want to drive over there right now?” I watch her drop a kiss on Blanche’s head from the corner of my eye.

“If that's okay with you?" She flutters her eyes at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. How could I say no to her pretty face?

"Sure, let's go," I say, setting Daisy down and getting up, emotion settling heavy in my throat.

I haven't been back to their parents' farm for twelve years at this point. For so many reasons.

The biggest one being shame, about them seeing me at my lowest. Emily and Jackson never, ever judged me for what I was going through. At least not to my face, and I’m pretty sure Evan had told me if they did it behind my back. Still, I could not let them in far enough for a chance to break my heart.

I built a wall around my heart, kept them at a firm distance, too scared to let them in and have my world fall apart once more.

Logically, I know it’s stupid. They’re not responsible for what my parents put me through. Projecting my fear onto them is unfair. But fear is not rational. And it’s not fair.

Spoiler alert: The world isn’t either.

Nonetheless, I'm too chickenshit to open my heart to parent-figures and be disappointed again. It felt too easy to like them and fall into the trap of ‘trust’. Now that I know at what cost this trust can come, namely a shattered heart once they turn their back to me after all, I'd rather continue to keep my distance.

"Hey." Brooke's fingertips dance over the back of my hand. "If you’re busy, I can always drive the animals over myself. It will just take me two trips."

"Oh no," I quickly object and shake my head. "I’ll drive with you. It's fine."

“It's clearly not,” she says gently and shuffles until she sits in front of me and won’t let me avoid her curious gaze.

"Trust me, it's okay. I’ll help you bring the animals over to your parents." Her gaze drills into my forehead as though she is trying to see through my skull and read my mind.

"Guess I'll take your word for it." She gets up and offers me her hand. "But for the record, I still think you're full of shit."

For a moment, I stare at it. Damn. Maybe she can read my mind. Did I say ‘refreshing’ she won’t let me get away with shit? I meant ‘annoying.’

"I mean, technically, every human is," I point out, clear my throat and let her help me get up, keeping Daisy close to my chest with one hand. But Brooke’s glare makes me shut up.

"You are deflecting again." She shakes her head. "Oh well. Maybe one day you will be honest with me."

She squeezes my hand, then wanders off to get the transport boxes.

Brooke's parents' farm is exactly as I remember it. The same red brick house and rustic charm. The same machinery scattered about, chickens running around freely, and I could swear even the same burnt-out string light bulbs.

Instead of stopping in front of the main house, Brooke drives further down their property.

Thank God.

With Christmas on the horizon, my emotions are all over the place to begin with. It's gotten better now since I can distract myself with friends and holiday cheer. But it's a fragile time. If I can avoid any potential triggers, I'd rather do so.

Finally, Brooke comes to a stop next to a cute wooden cabin, located a good bit away from the main house. It's still somewhat in sight. The cabin is down a hill, surrounded by maple trees and what appears to be a garden, but I can still see the red brick wall of the main house's kitchen from here.

I jump out of the car.

"Is this it?" I ask, just in case, before I open my car door for the girl’s gang in my backseats.

"Yep." She nods, produces the key from a hidden spot under one of the porch chairs, and unlocks the door.

Sophia, Blanche and Dorothy run ahead like I had kept them prisoner for days instead of only a fifteen-minute drive. Rose doesn’t have as much urgency in her steps. I carry Daisy inside, then help Brooke carry Morticia’s and Gomez’s giant cage.

"I'll bet you Daisy will escape within ten minutes," I declare once Brooke has set up her enclosure in a corner.

"Oh, absolutely." Brooke nods as she brushes past me to get the cats. “I’ve got to buy her a more secure enclosure. It’s dangerous to have her hopping around as she pleases.”

"I'm surprised by how chill all of your animals are," I declare, trudging after her. "Aren't cats notorious for not wanting to go into transport boxes?"